


Strange Company

by mutantfodder



Series: LISA AU [3]
Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutantfodder/pseuds/mutantfodder
Summary: Lisa and Dusty have a late-night snack.





	Strange Company

Lisa had been staying at Brad’s for nearly two weeks now. It was difficult for her to get used to the transition; she had gone from consistent abuse day in and day out to an environment of unfaltering security, something she had never really experienced before. She didn’t really know how to process this, and was still trying to break old habits and suppress deep-rooted fears she had developed during her time with Marty.

Of course, it was a welcome change, but she couldn’t get the lingering suspicion out of her head that it was going to end as abruptly as it began. She was terrified that it was all a pleasant dream, or that she would suddenly be dragged back home, and that she would wake up to Marty’s corpulent figure looming over her all over again. There wasn’t a night that went by without her waking up in a cold sweat from visions of his horrific face, and tonight was no exception.

Lisa was a light sleeper; the slightest noise was enough to jolt her awake and send her into a panic. She had been perched motionlessly on the edge of the couch for a few minutes now, save for her breath, which was rapid, shallow and silent.  _ Is he here? Did he find me? Is he gonna use me again? _ Her mind raced as she focused on the quiet, yet unmistakable sound of footsteps coming from another room. She tried her hardest to force his face, the feeling of his sweaty hands gripping her, the miasma of alcohol that followed him everywhere, out of her mind. She prayed to God it wasn’t him, that she would be free of him forever, just like Brad said she would.  _ Hail Mary. _

The footsteps stopped. Whoever was stirring had stopped dead in their tracks, and Lisa knew it. She collected her thoughts and mustered enough courage to investigate. With a trembling hand, she felt around the coffee table next to the couch and tentatively gripped a can of mace: a welcome gift from Brad, in case anything happened. She had no idea how to use it, but she figured that the sight of it in her hand would be enough to scare Marty off if he were here. At least, she hoped this was the case.

Hesitantly, she stepped off the couch and crept towards the kitchen, where she figured the sound came from. As a precaution, Lisa had memorized where the floor creaked and where it stayed silent when she walked on it during the first few days she moved in. With this knowledge, she managed to lurch to the doorway without a sound. She squinted into the room to see if she could sense any movement through the inky darkness, her grip ever-tightening on her can of mace. 

Suddenly, the stranger opened the door of Brad’s fridge, triggering an alarming  _ whoosh _ and flooding the room with a pale, dim light. Instinctively, Lisa let out a panicked yelp, dropping her can. She shut her eyes tight and braced herself for Marty’s swift fist against her fragile body. To her surprise, however, the stranger in the kitchen let out a yelp in tangent. The voice was not Marty’s. Lisa was intensely relieved, but she was still too scared to open her eyes to see who it was. Both parties stood motionless, both equally shell-shocked by each other’s presence. Slowly, Lisa opened her eyes and was greeted by Brad’s son Dusty, who was recoiling in shock before her.

Dusty was a good half a foot taller than Lisa, despite being nearly a year younger than her. She was mistrustful of him at first, but quickly realized that he was a genuinely kind boy who meant no harm. Amidst her paranoia about seeing Marty in the kitchen, Dusty was a welcome sight.

“I—Sorry,” Lisa stammered, “I thought you were—someone else.” Her pulse slowed, and Dusty regained his composure.

“I t-thought you were Brad for a s-second,” Dusty admitted, tripping over his own words. “I d-didn’t want him to get m-m-mad at me for being up so late…”

The two stared each other down for a second. Admittedly, Dusty was a little bit scared of Lisa; she reminded him of a ghost from a scary movie he saw once, with her sickly pale skin and fearful, dark eyes. He quickly discovered she was quite unstable as well, and convinced himself that he had to step on eggshells to avoid making her upset. Carefully, he chose his next words.

“Do you want s-some yogurt?” He tentatively offered, “I was gonna get some f-f-for m-myself…” Lisa nodded, and Dusty grabbed two yogurt cups from the rickety fridge. They both sat down at the dining table, careful not to pull the chairs out too loud, and silently began eating.

After an awkward two minutes, Dusty attempted to initiate conversation again. “Why w-were you awake?”

“Nightmare,” Lisa responded dryly, her eyes trained on her now-empty cup. She absentmindedly stirred her spoon around in it.

“Ah,” he replied, “Uh, do you want to t-talk about it?”

“No.”

“...You’re all r-right, though?”

“I—yeah. I’m okay.”

He could tell that she absolutely was not, but he didn’t want to pry. He had a suspicion that something bad had happened to her from the moment he met her, but he avoided asking her so as not to bring back bad memories. He got the feeling Brad had similar experiences as her; their mannerisms indicated it in subtle, yet noticeable ways.

Lisa’s mannerisms in particular were especially odd. The way she walked without making a sound, so perfectly that he could never tell if she was coming. The way she held so tightly onto Bernard’s wrist whenever he was around until his hand went numb, but he never complained, remaining steadfast until she eventually loosened her grip. The way she seemed to be more mature than anyone her age, how she seemed to have been forced to grow up too fast, despite only turning eleven a few months ago. The way she flinched whenever someone touched her, and how she shifted uncomfortably whenever someone made a fist. He knew.

Interrupting Dusty’s train of thought, Lisa pushed her chair in extra loud and stood up, as if she knew what he was thinking about and was trying to distract him. She looked at him vacantly for a second before interrupting the oppressive silence with her meek voice.

“Dusty.”

“Y-yeah?”

“...Thanks.”

He wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the yogurt cup, for trying to comfort her from her nightmare, or for something entirely else.

“D-don’t mention it.”

Lisa remained silent for a moment, not used to anyone being sincerely kind to her and still trying to let it sink in. Suddenly, a genuine smile spread across her face. This was the first time he had seen her look anything but miserable; she looked a little less unsettling like this. He smiled back awkwardly.

“I’m going to bed,” Lisa began, briskly changing the subject. She turned her attention to the dimly glowing clock on the oven, which read 3:02 AM. “Jeez, it’s late. I didn’t notice.” She was lying. “Night, Dusty.”

Dusty stood up and picked up both of their cups. “Goodnight, Lisa.” He whispered after her as she departed through the doorway. After a moment, he heard an audible  _ flop _ on the creaky couch she had taken up residence on. Perplexed by his peculiar new family member, he slowly threw away the empty cups and made his way back to his own room.


End file.
